What Really Happened?
by Kenxi
Summary: Things are slow in Hell's Kitchen, giving Foggy time to ponder his past with Matt. The knowledge of his friend has Foggy reconsidering an old case they took which was never fully explained. Foggy wonders if Daredevil had something to with the mystery.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I can't make any updating promises, but I will try to update as quickly as possible. Please leave a review, thanks!

- **Kenxi**

"I'm heading out, now. See you tomorrow?"

Since Karen wasn't there, Foggy watched as Matt effortlessly grabbed his papers and coat, carrying his cane close to him, but not actually using it as he walked to the door. Without so much as feeling for it, Matt put his hand on the knob and turned it before pausing and facing Foggy once more.

It took Foggy a second to realize that Matt was waiting for him to respond to his previous words. He quickly sat up straighter in his chair and blinked mentally awake. "But of course, my blind friend." Foggy forced a grin which he now knew Matt would catch. He did, and he smiled back in return before heading out, the creaking of the wooden floor being the only thing really familiar right then.

Foggy breathed out a heavy sigh when he thought Matt was far enough away, or at least no longer listening, and slouched back in his chair again. Even after knowing about his friend as long as he had, he still wasn't quite used to it. In fact, when he really allowed himself to use his brain and think about this whole thing, he could only come back to one conclusion.

Everything had changed.

Well, maybe not everything, but it sure felt like it.

At first Foggy thought it was Matt who had changed. Fisk had been out of the way for a week now, and even more time before that where Foggy had reconsidered his past with his best friend.

The second he had seen the masked man collapsed and bloodied on the floor of Matt's house, Foggy had known who he was even though he didn't want to. And yet, he wondered if he had ever really known him at all.

But it wasn't Matt who had changed, Foggy realized after the first week of alcohol and self-pity for his stupidity. He really was still the same best friend, just with more shared secrets than before; Foggy was certain of that now. And once he had realized that, he then struggled finding what it was that had changed, if not the man with the hidden identity.

It was him. Foggy. Foggy Nelson had changed. His perspective was so foreign to him now—the blacks and whites were grayer than ever. Silently he wondered if this was how Matt had felt after the accident which left him blind…ish. Seeing things in an entirely different way, that is. Perhaps Foggy was really the blind one.

Perhaps he always had been.

Now he sat alone in the office at his desk, rubbing a hand over his mouth as he tried to remember a while back when they had decent jobs at a firm, partially during and partially right after college. It was before the two friends had gotten their own way, but close enough that it slid across Foggy's memory. It had been one of their craziest cases to work on, if not the craziest one of all. But knowing what he knew now...well, it made him wonder if maybe Matt's secret wasn't the only thing Foggy hadn't entirely understood.

They hadn't been very high up in superiority at the small firm they worked in then, obviously, at their age, but they were genius avocados and always tried to get involved in any cases there anyway. Thinking about it now, Foggy realized that it may not have been the wisest thing to do from where their status was, but he supposed it didn't really matter now. A lot of things didn't.

So Foggy decided to consider why that case had mattered so much then, and what changed after that. Because things did change.

He leaned back in his not super comfy chair and tried to remember. The winter chill in the air, the constant vigilance of all law enforcement in Hell's Kitchen, the terror at night...

 _"Matt!" Foggy shouted as he burst into the room. It had been a slow afternoon—no one had anything to give to the young interns. A blind one and his not as smart, odd, but extremely good looking partner, if Foggy did say so. But now, as he rushed to his friend with papers in hand, he knew he had done something right for the first time in... a while._

 _Foggy shoved the papers at Matt, even if the dude couldn't see worth crap. He was too excited. "We got ourselves something," he jittered nervously, "something real." He rubbed his hands together, imitating holding money in hand. This was done on purpose, seeing as how Matt lacked a visual and would assume the case was the real deal, not just the money. But in Foggy's defense, the two were the same thing. Honestly._

 _Sighing, Matt wiped over the not-brail paper in his hands, lifting his chin as normal one would to look up at another. Foggy knew he obviously didn't have to appear normal like that, but he appreciated that Matt always tried his best to act like a regular guy. Because at the end of the day, he was, right?_

 _"Foggy, who would—?"_

 _"Well no one exactly gave it to me willingly, but those are just details. We got it. The guy going on trial for those recent murders?_ We got it _. Man! This is gonna make us so famous!"_

 _From what Foggy could see behind the dark shades, Matt still wasn't fully buying it. Always the cautious one he was._

 _"We can't take on a case like this, Foggy. It's too big, and we're... not. Besides, it isn't technically allowed since we aren't exactly legit at this point." Matt was giving him that look. That blind I-can't-see-your-face-but-I-see-the-bitter-truth look he always threw. Somehow, Matt knew that Foggy hated that face. The strong, deep friggin' hate was probably tangible or something._

 _"Come on, Matty," Matt sighed at the nickname, but Foggy knew he secretly didn't mind a bit. "Let's give it a shot. Take a chance. The guy is obviously guilty, we just have to defend the guy almost murdered by that first guy! Easy. This is an important case, a pretty simple one, and so we can't lose. We just get our names on it. What's the worst that could happen?"_

The worst ended up being two more deaths, an almost death for Foggy, an almost death for Matt, two weeks of psych therapy for Foggy, and never truly knowing what happened.

And now, Foggy was determined to find out.

 **A/N:** Please let me know your thoughts and ideas, thanks! :D

- **Kenxi**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Sorry it took so long to update, life is life. Hope you enjoy this next chapter! Most of this is from Foggy's memories of the past case, so it is mostly in italics, sorry ya'll. And just accept whatever I write. It's legit. Probably.

- **Kenxi**

 _A grayish tint was blanketing most of Hell's Kitchen as Matt and Foggy walked out of their just-about-justice-served building. Court was in recess at the moment, and they would finish the case tomorrow. And, after today, Foggy was downright positive they could not lose. Following this win, no one would call the genius's amateurs again. Forget it being an easy win, easy money case._

 _Foggy raised his hands into the dull, clouded air like he was a king. Which, in a sense, he definitely was. "Matthew, my dear friend, after we have destroyed the treacherous mortal whom hath plagued our beautiful city, we shall dine as kings!" With that, he fist pumped the air and brought his hands down again, taking Matt's arm once more since he couldn't see where he was going, obviously._

 _Matt chuckled and shook his head. "You wouldn't use 'whom' in that sense, Foggy. Whom is the direct object, and you were using as a subject, so—"_

" _Psh. Who cares? After tomorrow, I can tell anything to whomever I freaking well want to. Cause we will be kings no matter what."_

" _See, that time you did use the 'whom' thing right. Well done, Mr. Nelson."_

 _Foggy froze. "Really?"_

 _Laughing, Matt dragged him forward again to continue the flow of people. "Really. It's used for datives too, such as 'to whom' and 'for whom' like that. Get it now?"_

" _For the first time ever. You have opened mine eyes, Matthew Murdock. I am forever in your debt."_

 _They stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for the streetlight to stop the crazy traffic in the afternoon. Foggy knew that Matt was grinning without even looking at him._

 _It was silent for a moment, allowing Foggy to let this new information sink in. Never before had 'whom' made sense until this moment. Oh, wait. He still didn't get it._

" _We really did do alright in there today, though," Matt stated, interrupting Foggy's deep, grammatical thoughts. "I think you might be right, for once. We probably will win tomorrow."_

 _The light told them to go through then as Foggy answered. "I am always right, my friend. I mean, the evidence is overwhelming! Captain Moron had fingerprints all over that last victim's house. Forensics found some blood samples in the same vic's fingernails when he scratched him, most likely. And the guy has no alibi! For any of the murders! I mean, sure, he hasn't confessed, but if you noticed like I did, the guy didn't exactly say he didn't kill anyone. He's a tool, if you ask me, and anyone going around killing people like that is plain out of his mind. There isn't a chance that we can't win."_

 _Matt fell silent._

" _What? My speech too brilliant? Wrote it out this morning." Foggy nudged Matt playfully, expecting him to smile or tell Foggy he was being an idiot, but secretly agreeing with him. Instead, Matt kept walking, his mouth pressed tightly into a hard line. One of his thinking faces, Foggy recognized. He almost groaned at the thought of Matt's over analyzing._

" _You're right."_

 _Foggy put a hand over his heart in mostly feigned shock as they entered the building to Matt's apartment. "That's the second time you've admitted to my genius, I'm aghast!"_

 _Instead of laughing, Matt tightened his jaw. "This has been too easy." Foggy began to say something, but Matt cut him off with a sharp shake of the head. "Let me finish. There have five attempted murders so far, correct? Three have been successful, and one still might die in his coma at the hospital. None of which had any evidence on them concerning our guy, Heathcliff Barnes, until the most recent one, the guy who survived, right?" While Foggy just stared at him, utterly confused, Matt looked straight ahead, almost talking to himself now as they entered the place._

" _It's almost as if he wanted to get caught. Or someone else did." Matt paused._

 _Foggy took this as a sign for him to talk now as they headed up the stairs. "Well duh!" He threw his hands up. "Of course someone wants him to get caught! He's a murderer!"_

 _But Matt was already shaking his head, feeling for the door knob to his home. "Something's not right, that's all I'm saying." And with that, he walked in ahead of Foggy and quickly went down the stairs towards the living room without any help at all._

 _Sometimes, Foggy wondered if Matt really was blind at all, the freaking echolocation dude of homo-sapiens. Sheesh._

" _Dude, Matt," Foggy started as he headed down the stairs. Matt had already grabbed his laptop and was typing things into his weird blind person's…typing…thing. Foggy had known Matt a while, for real, and he still had no idea about his buddy sometimes._

" _I'm missing something. Something big."_

" _I honestly don't think—"_

 _Matt suddenly froze, forcing Foggy to reflect the action as well._

" _Foggy, when you open a door that swings outward to the right, you use your right hand, right?" Matt asked, his head turned in Foggy's direction._

 _His expression was so serious, Foggy actually let out a laugh. "You kidding, man?" One look from Matt, and Foggy threw his hands up in surrender, even though Matt couldn't actually see him. "Alright, so right door, right hand, sounds about right, I guess," Foggy whispered to himself. He secretly laughed again at how many times they were using the words "right" for this._

" _Exactly," Matt felt his blind keyboard thing again, leaving Foggy wondering how in Hell's Kitchen his friend had heard what he'd just muttered under his breath from the distance he was from him. "And then vice-versa for the left door, right?"_

 _Foggy considered it, miming the motions mid-air for a second to double check. "Well, left, actually. Heh. But yeah. That's usually the case, but it's not like there's a rule or something against switching things up and opening a door that swings left with the right hand. I mean, maybe I'll start doing it, you know, living on the edge. Man, this is getting confusing now. All this left and right stuff." Foggy huffed a breath and went to sit with Matt on the couch. "Sometimes the more technical and specific you get with things, the more you push the likeliness of the desired truth."_

 _The room was dark since Matt didn't exactly need many windows or light, but Foggy could still see his friend's pursed lips. "I know that, I do," Matt replied, rubbing a hand through his hair. "But sometimes all of that specific stuff is what saves the truth, if someone is willing to look at it, like I am."_

" _Not many people try to look for reasons as to why a murderer may not have murdered someone."_

" _That's what I'm trying to get at, Foggy!" The loud words bounced off the bare walls and hit Foggy in the face. Matt took in a deep breath, and he continued with his tone far more softened. "Everything about this case feels wrong. Everything is right in front of us, and yet I still feel like we can't see a thing. Literally, in my case."_

 _Foggy stifled a laugh at that._

" _I need you to trust me on this, buddy. Maybe we can catch more than one bad guy in the deal, huh?" Matt smiled towards Foggy who grinned in return._

 _He slapped Matt on the back. "Always, dude. So what was this about another bad guy? And the friggin' door thing? Made little sense."_

 _Matt nodded. "The police said that they found fingerprints off of Barnes from his right hand on the door from the inside. We went over there, remember?"_

" _Yeah, it swung open to the right. So the right hand is fine to use."_

" _From the outside, but this is the inside, so the door would be swinging out to the left as he was leaving the room. Instinctively, anyone would use their left hand to open that door. Especially if gunshots were fired from your victim for anyone to hear. You'd be in a hurry to get out of there—he wouldn't be thinking about which to use to open the door."_

 _Foggy blinked. "I don't get it."_

 _The excited look on Matt's face froze right there. "What do you mean? The fingerprints don't match what the circumstances were! It makes total sense!"_

" _Well, Matt," Foggy spoke slowly so as not to ruin Matt's bizarre dreams and ideas, "I don't mean to sound like I don't believe you, but I don't really think that the fact of which hand the guy used to open a door will really mean anything to the D.A., you know? Besides, maybe he didn't even use the door! I mean, he came through the window, the vic said, right? He could have gone out the window too.…"_

" _And then there wouldn't be fingerprints on the inside of the door."_

" _Realized it as I said it."_

 _Matt threw his head back in exasperation. "It doesn't make any sense."_

 _Foggy sighed. "Look, you're thinking far too hard about this. We ain't detectives or policemen. We're attorneys. Other people give us the info, and we get the bad guys. That's it. I'm sure everyone's already looked into this a bunch."_

" _Don't be too sure. Like you said before, no one tries to save a murderer from anything that might make life easier for him. Some people just don't want the truth, I guess."_

 _Not really knowing what to say, Foggy kept his mouth shut. Plus, it seemed like Matt was thinking deeply about something._

 _Before Foggy could ask what he was thinking of, Matt suddenly snapped back to the present. "The main thing that I don't understand is why, after all these other murders, why does he just now become sloppy? I mean, there weren't any fingerprints on the window where he came in, but everywhere else he… oh."_

 _Foggy raised his eyebrows at his deep-in-thought friend. "Oh? You gonna share with the rest of the class?"_

" _I think I may have just thought of something. Maybe something important."_

The blaring ringtone of Foggy's cellphone went off, interrupting his memories. Blinking furiously to get back to the present, he sat forward and grabbed his phone off the desk in front of him and answered the call, not even looking at the caller I.D. as he did so.

"Hello?" He asked, rubbing his eyes. Man, he was tired. A glance outside told him that it was late. Or early. What time was it, anyway?

Heavy breathing came from the other end. "Foggy, I need your help. Claire is out of town right now and—" Matt suddenly cut off with wet coughing that sounded painful even from the phone.

Foggy swallowed his worry and tried to keep his head clear. "Okay Matt, I'm on my way. Are you at your place? Or do I need to pick you up in an alley somewhere?"

"Yeah, I'm here." He broke off into coughing again, and Foggy took a deep, shaky breath as Matt said, "Hurry," before the line went dead.

 **A/N:** Gotta love them cliffhangers, though. Please review! The door thing is so legit, so just accept it. And if you still don't get it, PM me and I'll explain it more slowly. :D Let me know what ya'll think is gonna happen next in a review! With both the present and the past conundrums. Thank you so much!

- **Kenxi**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** So I made some mostly grammatical changes to the other two chapters, plus a couple things to make more sense. Nothing huge or anything, so you don't need to check it out. I was just letting ya'll know that I care about English rules and such. Not much happens in this chapter, sorry, but I promise for occurring events in the next one which should come up soon. Thank you so much!

 **-Kenxi**

Foggy pounded on the seat in frustration as the night traffic eventually just stopped moving completely. "Come on!" He yelled, as if it would make a difference. At this rate, he probably could have walked to Matt's faster than taking a taxi where the driver thought him insane. What was he thinking? Normally it would be faster, but apparently there was an accident up ahead—probably from thin ice.

He was mainly just hoping that Matt was still alive when he got there.

For a moment, Foggy considered calling Matt again, but quickly deleted the idea as it would include talking about it in front of the taxi driver, and it would require Matt to move and talk to answer it which might well kill him. Now Foggy was just wishing he knew the extent of his friend's injuries. He really didn't know anything. Not about Matt at the moment, whether Karen liked him back at all, what really happened during that case forever ago….

Foggy frowned at the thought. There had been so many things they had discovered wrong with that whole latter situation, and so many things they never did figure out. But perhaps Matt knew the truth. Perhaps Matt had something to do with three guys showing up to the police station with confessions of a whole lot of crimes committed, including their involvement in the murders and attempted murders of the five people and the little cleanup they made with it too.

There was also something about another guy working with them, but Foggy hadn't gotten much details concerning that bit since the police took it over. The whole thing was just confusing and abstract in such a way that Foggy had tried his best to move on and never look back on the whole thing. Even Matt had been strangely quiet about it, maybe even content with the results. Another reason Foggy wondered now about what truly had happened.

The old taxi driver guy looked over his shoulder at Foggy. "This might take a while to get out, son," he said. "You can pay me now if you'd rather walk to wherever you're headed. Seem to be in a hurry."

A beat for better ideas. Zip. "Yeah, sure," he muttered and handed geezer a few bills. A sharp look was returned and Foggy sighed, stuffing a few more in his hand. "Why do you hoard, greedy old man? Enjoy the 4th Circle of Hell." And he was out of the car and into the bitter cold of the night. Or morning. He never did check the clock on his way out.

It took Foggy a few more cursed minutes to run/jog/fast walk to Matt's place. Over all, it had been under fifteen minutes to get there in the weather. Although the taxi ride felt slow before it stopped altogether, he had shed at least seven minutes off by it. Maybe the old dude didn't totally deserve the hoarding, squandering tortures of the 4th Circle in his, for the most part, kind deed.

Foggy burst into the room and down the stairs as fast as he could toward the prone form sitting up against the couch. At least Matt had managed to open up his uniform and take off his cowl head thing. Really, Foggy needed to learn the names of all Matt's weird stuff. This was ridiculous.

Upon finding Matt's heart still beating strong, luckily, Foggy saw a seemingly impossible tear in the practically indestructible material of the Daredevil costume, and, under a blanket surrounding his torso, Foggy could see a reflected gash in the skin covered in blood as a response. How…? Foggy shook off the curiosity, needing to help his friend first. Ask questions later.

Matt had the decency, thank goodness, to stop the bleeding with the old blanket from the couch. Afterward, Foggy supposed, he promptly passed out from the blood loss, if all the blood was anything to go by. Foggy took a deep breath.

No other injuries seemed desperate for attention—just bruises and minor scrapes where the uniform didn't shield Matt's body. But this wound around the ribs made no sense. What kind of weapon could get through the armor? Foggy reminded himself once again to forget questions as he took a look.

The bleeding had stopped, but Foggy couldn't tell for certain if anything else had been hit. It could be close enough to the lungs to do damage, but Foggy was in no way experienced enough medically for that. The best he could do for his friend now would be to stitch him up. Which he'd been taught…once…how to accomplish that. Besides, he had done it before.

Foggy looked at his friend's pale face for a moment, noting the strong breaths he was pulling in and his eyes moving underneath his eyelids. This wasn't exactly like last time where he'd discovered Matt's secret identity as he lay half dead on the floor. Yes, Matt was still alive. Still breathing. Foggy could do this.

He grabbed the bag he'd brought with him and pulled out a needle, thread, gauze, tape, hydrogen peroxide, and alcohol. That last part was definitely going to be essential if Foggy was going to be able to do this. It was more for himself than his unconscious buddy over there.

Oh yeah, Foggy Nelson could definitely do this.

00000

It was about an hour later when Matt woke up. He blinked and let out a groan from the couch.

Immediately Foggy was in front of him with a glass of water, anxious for the news. "Tell me now, do you need to go to a hospital?"

Matt squinted at him and sat up a little, mumbling, "No, I'm good. I would have mentioned it if he'd hit anything vital. Well, vital as far as I can tell."

"Good," Foggy breathed out, sitting on the table beside the couch. It had been a long hour. A long night, actually. It was around three in the morning right now. "Which leads me to my next question: how did anything break through your armor anyway? Who was this punk? What kind of blade was he using?"

Clearly still waking up, Matt blinked again hazily. "That was three questions, Foggy."

"Yes, I can count, Matt."

A sigh. "I have no idea what he used, but it was lethal. This happened in the first ten minutes of the fight." Matt gestured to his side without looking down. "I don't even know who he is. Just seemed like a regular guy who was mugging a poor woman about a block from here. After she ran, we fought a bit before he got me with his weapon and disappeared." Matt paused. "He fought pretty well for a street fighter."

"Lunatic," Foggy huffed, losing interest already. His mind was on other things. He folded his arms as he considered something. "We can get your suit fixed later. Right now, however, I want you to tell me something else while you're stuck in bed. Or, in this case, stuck in couch." Foggy frowned, confused at his own words.

Matt sat up more, wincing slightly. "What's that?"

"Do you remember that case we took, like, forever ago? When we defended Lewis Marshall against Heathcliff Barnes?"

"How could I forget?" Matt said softly, looking away from Foggy.

Foggy smiled a little. "I've been thinking about it lately. And I'm pretty sure there's more that happened than what I know. I don't think you told me everything, _Daredevil_."

The room felt cold for a moment in the silence. Finally, "Yeah, Foggy," Matt said, glancing in his direction, "I guess I kind of do owe you an explanation for that."

 **A/N:** I love Dante's _Inferno_ and studied it a while back, if anyone got the Circle of Hell reference. :D Anyone is welcome to share a nerdy conversation about the epic with me later. I hope you liked the chapter as uneventful as it was. Let me know any theories or what you think or what you'd like to see in future chapters in a review please!

 **-Kenxi**


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